Breath of Life
by Shadow of an Echo
Summary: Canada and America are talking one night over a case of beer and bottle of wine. America's curiosity is piqued when Canada confesses the wine he is drinking isn't French, but Spanish. Telling of his trip to Spain gets a little complicated when the subject of a certain foul mouthed Italian comes up. Canada/Romano; France/Spain; with America and Canada brother bonding.
1. Raise Your Glass

**Breath of Life**

**Shadow of an Echo**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Hetalia and I am not making any money off this story.

**Summary: **Canada and America are talking one night over a case of beer and bottle of wine. America's curiosity is piqued when Canada confesses the wine he is drinking isn't French, but Spanish. Telling of his trip to Spain gets a little complicated when the subject of a certain foul mouthed Italian comes up.

**Rating: Mature! **

**Warnings: Yaoi, and sexual situations, plus Romano's mouth. **

**Note on Country names and alternate Languages: **I use Country and Human names interchangeably for main characters, and country names pretty much exclusively for minor characters. As for when addressing each other, in public human names are necessary otherwise they would all be locked up on suspicions of insanity for calling each other America or France. In private I'm going with the theory that they have to give permission to another nation to use their human name, kind of like Japanese honorifics.

Also, if a country is speaking purely in their own language I am going to translate it into English in the story and tell you that's what's happening in the context. The only non-English words will be the occasional pet name, or a word of emphasis, but I promise nothing that you have to break out the English to whatever language dictionaries for.

**Additional Notes:** This story is a game I am playing against myself. I am proving there is no such thing as an Hetalia crack pairing. I am a history buff. In history all the countries have been connected in some way, shape, or form. I am going to capitalize on this idea. The point of the game is this, Take Character A (one of your favorites) and Character B (Another of your favorites, but one that seems to have no connection to character A) and pair them together finding the fewest steps possible between them.

**Chapter One**

**Raise Your Glass**

It was July 2nd, a Saturday night between Matthew Williams, the personification of Canada's birthday, and his brother Alfred F. Jones, the personification of America's. As they had for almost two centuries they took one of the nights between their birthdays to get together, just the two of them; well the two of them and their respective choice of alcohol.

True sibling countries were rare as nations, there were plenty that called themselves brother or sister, but to have a sibling by blood as a country, it was something very special. They knew of the Italian twins, and two of the Nordics; Russia claimed he and his sisters were by blood but no one was brave enough to check their claim. Germany was an oddity, they really were not positive if East and West were truly brothers by blood, or some new kind of relation. The German federation, with the Holy Roman Empire, Teutonic Knights, and the Grand Duchy of Prussia made things so complicated it was like trying to unravel a tumbleweed. There was an active bet about Switzerland and Lichtenstein, they certainly looked enough like siblings to pass, but like with Russia, no one wanted to risk Vash's guns to check. The Asian countries were either so much older or closed off to the Western world for so long, if any of them were true siblings, they simply didn't know.

America and Canada were true siblings, not twins like Italy and Romano, but brothers all the same. They knew everything about each other. Sure they fought like all brothers would, but in the end, every year they met like this and it was their time to relax and remember the year together.

They had chosen to trash America's house this time, his favorite one in New Mexico since it was so close to where he'd found his beloved friend Tony. See Mathew knew that about Alfred, most of the other countries thought Alfred liked the houses he had in New York or LA more.

"I don't know how you can drink that sissy stuff Matty, Francis rubbed off on you big time," Alfred teased breaking Mathew out of his musing.

He glared at his brother and took a large gulp of wine to spite him, Alfred just slung back another drink from the dark brown beer bottle in his hand. "And I don't know how you can drink beer so weak it tastes like water." He ribbed right back.

"Now you sound like Arthur," Alfred complained, "What's wrong with my beer?" He wined.

"Nothing," Mathew was quick to assure, "If you're a fifteen year old boy stealing one from his daddy's fridge for the first time." Alfred dramatically put a hand over his heart falling back out of his seat at the dig.

"Hey! I seem to remember it was both of us taking that beer," He reminded, gathering himself up once the laughter had stopped, "And we were stealing Britain's homemade stuff, I don't think this compares."

Canada threw his head back and laughed. "Arthur's beer could get a moose drunk back then." He calmed himself down enough to take another drink without spilling the delicious wine everywhere, it was a particularly good batch.

"I was right wasn't I? That's France's wine isn't it?" Alfred asked, trying to get a better look at the deep red liquid.

Mathew shook his head, "Nope, Spain's. I got my taste for wine from Francis, but I like Spanish reds more."

Alfred's laughter was contagious and it filled the room, "Does Francis know you cheat on him with Spain?"

Mathew rolled his eyes at his brother's implication, "Does Arthur know you prefer German beer over English?"

"Touche," Alfred gave up easily at his sibling pointing out a fact that would get him in serious trouble should their former guardian find out. It was one thing to like your own beer more, it was another to like someone else's import.

"Plus if France had a problem with me liking Spanish wine, he shouldn't have introduced me to it." Mathew mumbled as he took another sip.

"What was that?" Alfred was instantly curious about the mumble, Mathew only mumbled when they were alone if he was embarrassed.

"I said, if France had a problem with me liking Spanish wine than he shouldn't have taken me to Spain and shown me the real thing." Canada refused to meet his brother's eyes.

Alfred was startled and wide-eyed like a shocked puppy, "When did France take you to Spain? He never took me to Spain!" Sure Canada was under French custody longer, but that didn't mean Francis didn't bully Arthur into letting him take both boys with him on fun trips. The perks of Britain and France's tumultuous relationship.

"It's kind of a long story," Canada was rubbing the back of his neck guiltily.

"You've got the rest of the bottle, and I've got a case chilling in the fridge. What? Were you planning on ditching me tonight?" Alfred settled back in his chair expectantly, ready for his brother to tell him the story. This should be good. As shy as he was at meetings, Canada didn't normally clam up like this when it was just the two of them; it just made America more curious.

"Well if you really want to know, it was your fault really. Yours and Arthur's." Canada started, staring into the glass of blood red Spanish wine letting the memories flow over him, "It was right after the war of 1812, Francis found out what Arthur and I had done to you, and he was not happy…"

XXXXX Breath of Life XXXXX

"What the Hell were you thinking Arthur? You made him attack his own brother!" Francis was raging against Arthur, the two older countries locked themselves in the British Empire's office, but it didn't stop the colonies outside from hearing the diatribe. A few of Britain's carefully gathered colonies were outside the door, listening to their guardian get verbally flayed by France.

"Did you forget all Alfred did to Mathew!" Arthur protested. "I asked the boy to help me fight, to return the favor. Alfred's defenses were weak against Mathew, he could get through, and we won. His Capital burned. Besides the soldiers that set the blaze were mine,"

"It doesn't matter who set the fire Arthur! We both know history doesn't work that way." France swiped a hand down his face, before running it through his immaculately groomed hair. "You know, and I know, and I think Mathew has an idea that in a hundred years, two hundred, people are going to remember that battle as his. They are going to see him and his people as the ones to burn down Alfred's capital. You just sentenced him to generations of people remembering him for destroying his brother's heart."

"I can fix it! I'll find some way to fix this," Arthur swore as the color drained out of his face, the truth striking home.

Francis gave him a glare, "See that you do, in the meantime, I'm taking Mathew with me. I want him away from this house and it's memories for awhile. You can have him back when you manage to find a way of fixing this."

As France made his sweeping exit, he was greeted with the sight of several small colonies, ranging in human appearance from about five, to twelve, he looked at the eldest, one he recognized since she had once been his. "Seychelles, where is he? I know you were listening." She had been a good colony, and a sweet girl, he was very gentle with her. He did nothing but smile when pointing out the eavesdropping.

"Outside in the garden with Australia," She told him grimly, her normally bright smile nowhere to be seen. The seriousness of the situation reaching even her.

"Thank you mon petite cherie." He thanked, patting her on the head between her messy braids.

He followed the direction to the hedge garden, looking for the two boys in question, finding them only after spotting the bright white fur of Kumajiro standing out against the greenery of rosebushes not yet out of winter dormancy in the cold northern air.

Australia was the younger of the two, looking about fifteen, with shaggy brown hair, a crooked grin, and greenish brown eyes. He had a koala around his shoulders from his homeland, linking him to his nation until he could return. The marsupial had a disgruntled expression on it's face, one that it seemed to have every time France had ever seen the small grey, bear-like animal. He was talking animatedly, about what France couldn't quite catch since his English wasn't all that great and the boy spoke very quickly and with an odd accent he hadn't heard before.

The point wasn't in the words, but the intent, just by looking France could tell Australia was in the middle of an attempt at cheering his 'cousin' up. For all the effort he was putting into it, Canada was simply too out of it to notice.

Mathew looked to be about eighteen now. Older than Alfred despite the independence. His country was the first discovered by other nations, sparking his growth; he owed the Nordics that one. Now that America was gone, it was glaringly obvious Canada was getting to be too old for a colony. Living through the wars under Arthur's command hadn't helped Mathew any, Francis could see that too, as he stared blankly at his polar bear.

When he did speak to them, he did it in French, sending an apologetic glance at Australia, but he wanted to comfort his little Mathieu. "I heard what happened, I'm taking you away for a little while." He spoke softly, squatting down to pet the soft fur of the polar bear, putting himself in Canada's line of sight.

Canada's reply was smoother than France had expected, but with Seychelles there now Canada had been able to practice more than in the past, even if he had a strange way of saying things that made Francis twitch and squash the urge to correct him at times. "Does Arthur want rid of me now too?"

"No!" He corrected sharply, "This was my idea, he isn't sending you away or anything like that, we seriously need to work on your confidence." The elder nation studied the young colony for a moment before making his decision, "And I know just the place!"

"Where are we going?" More wariness than curiosity, another mark of war.

A bright grin plastered across his face, "Why to an old friend of mine, the perfect place to grow some confidence; the country of passion itself. We're going to Spain!" Antonio's would be the perfect spot, somewhere remote they could relax, and his Mathieu could heal, not to mention the Spaniard was always a marvelous host no matter how little he had to his name.

"Are you sure about this? He won't care about us just dropping in on him?" Mathew asked worriedly, now clutching his bear to his chest, the animal putting up with it out of habit.

France laughed freely, "Of course he won't care, he loves company. Especially such a cute little country like you, he has a weakness for cute things. He fought me for one of the Italy brothers once, he won, but I don't think he got what he bargained for exactly."

Canada tilted his head in confusion, "If he won, why didn't he get what he bargained for?"

"Because he got Romano," France replied as if that explained everything, and maybe if Canada was older it might have.

"I still don't get it? Isn't Romano southern Italy?" Mathew remembered from his, slightly boring, geography lessons with Arthur. The time he divulged pirate tales were much more exciting.

A little smirk, "Oh you'll see, Romano still lives with Antonio."

XXXXXX

Mathew had to pause in his story, the glass of wine had been emptied twice, Alfred had been to the refrigerator three times for another bottle, and they were starting to get hungry. Seemed like a good place to take a break and assimilate for a few moments, as Alfred went to the fridge again, this time for sandwich makings.

Silence descended as deli meat and cheese was piled on bread, a small fight ensued over the last bit of mayo in the jar, and finally the hunger pangs were soothed. Alfred was the first one done, despite having and extra sandwich than Mathew, "So it really was Arthur's soldiers that set the fire? It got so confusing for awhile I wasn't sure."

"It was." Canada assured softly, "I was there, I won't deny it, we did help get the soldiers through, but he was the one to burn the white house. I'll never forget the fire though, he wouldn't let me leave until the flames burned out. Told me to pour any anger or frustration I felt towards you into the blaze, and once it was over, let those feelings go. I guess it might have worked, I mean I never did carry a grudge for all the attacks you made on me, but I don't know that I would have had he not made me watch."

"Heh, maybe Arthur should take his own advice sometime, ever get drunk with him since then?" Alfred grumbled.

"A few times, it's not pleasant," Mathew agreed in commiseration.

Silence as a toast passed between them in remembrance, wars could drive nations apart or draw them closer, it depended on the countries involved.

"So France took you to Spain trying to improve your confidence, gotta say Mattie I don't think it worked." Alfred teased once the moment of silence passed.

The wicked smirk altering Canada's face gave America pause, "Spain showed me a lot about being confident actually, but it was Lovino who really helped me out. It's really not my fault I'm invisible now, but it is part of the story, so let me get back to it."

"Ah bro, who is Lovino?" Alfred asked in confusion.

"That would be Romano's name." Mathew informed him in a tone that implied he was an idiot for not realizing it.

The wide-eyed stare was back. "You know his name? How?"

"He told me it." Canada admitted. "Can I get back to the story now?"

"Oh I gotta hear this!" Alfred pleaded excitedly.


	2. Picture

**Breath of Life**

**Shadow of an Echo**

**A/N**:Yikes! I'm sorry everyone, I keep mashing together the English spelling of Matthew with the French Mathieu. -rubs neck guiltily- Ah, yeah, one of the warnings on my stories should probably be spelling inconsistencies. I do try, but I make epic fails on a semi-regular basis, sorry about that. Though maybe I should warn you now I am thinking of extending myself into using the Spanish and Italian variants, because I find it fascinating how the same name can change in so many different ways according to who hears it.

**Chapter Two  
Picture**

"When Francis and I traveled to Spain, at first I wasn't too sure about it. I missed him a lot, Arthur kept us apart as much as he could to help me 'adjust' as he called it, but there was a large part of me that just wanted to go back to Canada." Matthew settled back into his story, Alfred listening intently.

"You could go back home anytime, why would you want to give up a trip like that with France? I know how much he means to you." America interrupted his brother's story there, not understanding.

Canada shook his head, "Things changed at Britain's house after the Revolutionary war. Instead of allowing his older Colonies like Australia and me to come and go as we pleased, he made all of us stay with him. We could each pick one pet, or some other thing, to connect us to home, and that was supposed to keep us going until he had time to take all of us on a trip to visit each colony in turn."

"That's crazy! Why would Iggy do something like that?" Alfred protested, shaking his head and gesturing with his hands so violently a bit of liquid splashed from the open bottle in his right hand.

"Because he was afraid we would leave him like you did," Matthew replied quietly, staring into his wine glass again.

All motion stopped on America's part, and for a split second Canada considered taking a picture to prove his boisterous brother really could sit still and be quiet if you shocked him just right. Then he remembered someone would have to notice him long enough to look at the picture for it to be worth it, so he didn't bother.

"Sorry," America muttered eventually, covering up the apology by taking a drink.

Canada shrugged, "Its not like the rest of us didn't understand eh. We know why you did it, and none of us could have known Britain would react the way he did towards the rest of us afterwards."

Alfred covered up the slightly awkward moment in his usual fashion and pressed on, "So what made you decide to go after all?"

"I made a deal with Francis," Matthew admitted, "I would go with him to Spain, and afterwards we would visit Canada together. Once I knew I would get to go home I was a lot more excited about the trip."

"You would be," America agreed, "I like Spain, he's a lot of fun. I bet you had one heck of a welcome going there with France."

Alfred was a bit surprised at his brother's soft, but very definite laughter, "Maybe, if he was the one to meet us first, but he was working in the fields when we got there, so we were greeted by Romano."

XXXXX Breath of Life XXXXX

The heat of Spain was not something Matthew was expecting. Spring had barely begun to take the chill out of the air at Britain's place, but here the sun was merrily sending down its rays, the ground dusty and warm enough for the young colony to feel comfortable going barefoot, there were even crops growing in the fields already needing harvesting! It was amazing and he spent so long going from side to side in the carriage France had procured for them the older nation had laughingly asked if he could sit up with the driver for a better view.

Embarrassed, but pleased that France had done something purely for his enjoyment, Canada spent most of the ride to Spain's house out front with the easygoing coachmen. The man took a liking to the young colony, happy for the company on what to him was a familiar journey, taking time to point out places of interest for the teenaged nation.

The trip passed quickly in such pleasant company, and Matthew felt a little pang of regret when the carriage stopped and France came to collect him, their luggage gathered beside him. He looked up at the sprawling, beautiful, grounds of Spain and Romano's home, and audibly gulped.

Amused French cut through his insecurity, "You made it this far my dear Mathieu, I promise Antonio is nothing to be afraid of, and Romano's bark is much worse than his bite."

Matthew could only glare at France, which judging by the widening grin was highly ineffective, and drape his small bag over his shoulder. At Francis' insistence he had left Kumajiro with Australia to take care of while they travelled, it would be a bit too conspicuous to go around with a pygmy polar bear, not too mention the furry creature might not be too comfortable in the heat.

He didn't have much else that was purely his own. Britain was a vast empire, and his colonies were used to sharing whatever they had with a multitude of 'cousins,' and that was the best term they had for one another. They spoke the same language after Britain taught them, lived under the same roof (well now that Alfred had left and Arthur got paranoid), and were bound together by the single nation at the head of the Empire. They weren't quite close enough to call each other brother or sister yet, even if it was only in name like others had done, but before Alfred had left they looked up to the pair of brothers and were slowly working towards the goal and wanted that familial bond for themselves.

It seemed like Matthew's musings were always getting interrupted lately, because as he was pondering his odd and very extended family, there was a sharp voice hailing them, heavily accented with Italian. "I thought I told you Wine Bastard to leave and never come back!"

While Canada stood in shock at the grumpy Italian addressing them, France gave him his most winning smile, "My dear Romano, you must know by now that words said in anger towards friends must never be left to fester. I shall work to soothe those poor thoughts you have kept in your heart since our last parting." A nice sentiment for sure, but it only made the feisty southerner puff up in anger, ready to unleash another diatribe, before France cut him off masterfully from long years of practice dealing with his moods. "Now where is Spain? I haven't seen mon ami in such a long time, I brought somebody to meet him."

With that, Francis moved swiftly to the right, reveling Canada, who had most definitely NOT been hiding behind his former guardian…much.

"What the Hell Wine Bastard!" Romano exclaimed sharply after getting a good look at Canada. "You brought a miniature you to torture me with? I knew you and that Tomato Bastard were plotting to kill me off."

Feeling Matthew cling to his clothing in response, Francis had to step in, turning up his charm until you could practically see the sparkles and rose petals flying off him, "Why Romano, I'm shocked! You don't remember my darling Canada? My sweet Mathieu needed a break from that black sheep Britain, so I brought him to enjoy your marvelous…" And here even France had to pause a moment before forging on, "Hospitality."

Romano looked back and forth between Matthew and Francis suspiciously for a few moments, before his dark olive eyes landed on Canada finally. "You, mini-Wine Bastard, you don't remember me at all do you?"

Startled at being spoken to, it took a moment for him to respond, "Sorry, no!" He ducked down immediately afterwards, and wasn't proud of the squeak.

"Makes my life easier, cause I don't remember you either." Romano admitted. "Don't expect much from Tomato Bastard either, he's a dumbass."

France couldn't hold his laughter in, "Oh Roma, you haven't changed a bit!"

"Don't call me that!" Romano snapped, color rising on his cheeks, but to cover it up he turned abruptly and started walking back towards the house. "Get moving Wine Bastard, Tomato Bastard should be done checking on the fields soon." He explained huffily.

Following the still faintly blushing Romano, and snickering France, Canada tried to keep as small and quiet as possible; which for him was just next to invisible.

That changed when the trio arrived at the house. It. Was. Gorgeous.

Beautiful weathered stucco, turning gold with the rays of the sun hitting it just right, halls, arches, and large open paths worked into the building layout kept the finish one continuous layer of gold. The stucco was accented by mosaic tile laid out in geometric designs that a curious Matthew would later research and find to be from a group of people called Moors who did not believe in using people or most organic objects in art, instead creating the beautiful mosaics he saw now.

While Matthew recognized the building, and most of the furnishings in it, as Spanish there were occasional touches of Italian artwork scattered about. No surprise there from the length of time Romano had lived with Spain.

Matthew had an odd thought looking around at the artwork and furnishings, that maybe he had picked up more from Arthur's pirate stories than just guts, glory, and adventure.

"Mini-Wine Bastard, you going to keep staring or join us in the kitchen? I don't have to feed you, even if Tomato Bastard would get pissed at me." Romano called sharply while Matthew was admiring a beautiful painting of a pair of fishermen knee deep in calm water with the bright blue sky and rugged mountains as a back drop.

Matthew rushed to follow the barked command so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet, "Sorry, I was just looking at the painting, it is very beautiful." He apologized.

"Tomato Bastard wouldn't let me burn it." Romano's disgruntled statement, that also confessed to Matthew that he was the artist to paint the canvas in question, was only the start to the diatribe. "The light's all wrong, the third mountain from the left is supposed to be shaded like it's in the background, but appears to be in the foreground, the water should be flowing more briskly for the type of fish on the one line, too much blue sky, not enough contrasting dark on the ground." Romano probably would have rambled on if France hadn't interrupted.

"He really hasn't changed, not one bit, still can't take a very well earned compliment." The blonde Frenchmen walked up to the canvas in question looking it over with a practiced gaze. "How many times must we tell you to stop being so hard on yourself? What you see as flaws we see as touches of character and soul that make your art stand out as your own. I see nothing wrong with this from a technical aspect."

"Oh shut up Wine Bastard!" Romano groused, "I bet Veneziano's painting wouldn't have those 'touches of character' so stop spouting your nonsense." Balling his hands into fists he turned away from Frances piercing gaze, and Matthew's apologetic one. "Do you want food or not?" Stomping his way into the kitchen, he intended to work off his frustration the best way he knew how.

There was nothing better than pounding pizza dough into submission to work off frustrations.

"Francis?" Matthew started in quiet French, waiting until he had his former guardian's attention to continue, "Veneziano is his brother isn't he?"

"Yes that's North Italy's official designation, and Romano usually only calls him that when he gets defensive, otherwise he uses his human name. I bet you understand that better than I would actually, I've heard you and Alfred fight before." Francis was resisting the urge to leap for joy. It hadn't taken as much nudging as he thought, and already the first similarity was noticed by his Mathieu!

"I didn't mean to make Romano mad, I really did think the painting was beautiful, and I didn't even know he painted it when I said that." Canada responded.

France patted his head, "Not your fault Romano can't take compliments, and it was me who pushed him into comparing himself to his brother. Spain dotes on Romano, but other than the countries Spain deals with on a regular basis Romano has been pretty isolated, so he isn't used to getting complements and well there was a time when there was more fighting over the northern half than the southern; those days left their mark on him."

Canada was left with a lot to think about as he watched Romano work his craft in the kitchen making them pizza. All offers of help were denied sharply as he went into the zone.

Couldn't argue with the results, the heavenly taste made Canada swoon, and surreptitiously look up to see if there really was a choir of angels playing or if it was just his imagination. Francis' laugh told him it was his imagination.

The sudden cry of, "So cute!" In a happy go lucky voice made Matthew look up, slice of pizza half way to his mouth to find Spain standing in the doorway to the kitchen where they were all eating around the center island informally, smiling excitedly at him.

The smiling only lasted a moment before the excitable nation moved quickly to pull him up in a hug, surprising Matthew completely, making him look to France for help. With the way France was guffawing, no help would be coming from there. He was doomed.

Except the oddest thing happened, a wooden spoon collided with the side of Spain's head, "Hey Tomato Bastard, you're freaking him out with the touchy feely crap, I warned you about that!"

Wait, Romano had saved him? That couldn't be right.

Too bad Spain's next word's proved him wrong, "Oh Lovi, I couldn't resist, look at him! He's just so cute. Francis, why didn't you tell me your colony was so cute?"

"Don't call me that!" Romano snapped, "At least use Lovino alright Tomato Bastard, we've been over this. He looks just like Wine Bastard, only miniature."

"But Lovi!" Spain protested.

"I said no!" Romano refused immediately.

"You can't deny Francis' little colony is cute though," Spain pressed with his grin back in place, despite Romano's crankiness.

"You think everything short of plague is cute Tomato Bastard," If Canada and France didn't know any better, they could guess Romano was about two seconds away from face-palming.

They hadn't though Spain's grin could get wider, they were proven wrong, and now he added a sing-song note to his voice, "I didn't hear you deny it Lovino."

A string of angry Italian curses chased Spain out of the Kitchen followed by the source of the language wielding a new wooden spoon. That left France and Canada unattended with the rest of the pizza.

"Is it always like this around them?" Matthew asked cautiously, around a mouthful, normally more polite but this stuff was ambrosia of the gods.

Francis laughed, "This is just the warm up."

Canada wasn't sure how to ask the next question, but well, he was curious, and he WAS partially raised by the country next to him; so another slice of pizza later. "They seem uh, close."

"There's my Mathieu," France's grin was not exactly innocent, picking up on the intent behind the comment. "Like I told you before Romano has been isolated, so his options have been limited. He and Spain have had that kind of love before yes, but in the end that is not really what either of them wants, I think he was simply lonely. Spain is very passionate, it is his nations calling after all, and he adores his Romano so he did not mind. At the moment though, they are not together in a romantic sense."

XXXXX Breath of Life XXXXX

"Whoa Mattie, you actually asked Francis if they were together? After knowing them for what, twenty minutes? Hard core man, hard core." Alfred teased, mock toasting the brilliantly blushing Matthew.

"I was curious!" Matthew defended himself. "After the painting incident, the thing with the hugging, and the way Romano always treated Spain so badly while Spain doted on Romano I wanted to know. It was like they were trying to hide how close they were even from each other, and Romano was such a ball of mystery to me after being at Britain's place for so long I simply wanted to know."

America looked over his older brother carefully before a wicked grin crossed his face, "You had a crush on Romano." Not a question.

Deepening blush and no vocal response was all the answer Alfred needed.

"May I remind you of the time you had a crush on Belarus?" Canada shot back, needing some way of defending himself.

A snort from Alfred, "Until I realized even if she somehow got over that creepy stalker thing with Russia, that chick would eat my liver."

"Ukraine is nice, she watches the hockey matches I have with Ivan." Matthew added, "I could put in a good word for you if you wanted to take a walk on the wild side, she might know a way to get to Belarus without the whole losing organs thing."

"You think so?" Alfred mused looking into his beer bottle like it held the answers.

Matthew shrugged, "Don't know until I ask, might take awhile though, not sure how well Ivan's healing up from our last match. I think I broke a couple of his ribs."

America blinked dumbly at Canada, "Did you just say you broke Russia's ribs?"

"…Maybe?" Canada mumbled, turning away and taking a drink of wine to avoid his brother's incredulous stares.

"Is this a case of 'should have seen the other guy,' do I need to worry about you having, I don't know, a busted spleen or something?" Alfred was almost scarily calm, not good. Canada might be older by nation avatar standards, but America was intensely protective of him.

"Nope. I'm good eh, I checked him into the wall a couple times, but he can't usually return the favor." A hint of pride in his voice at that one.

"Good, then I don't have to cut the story short to hunt down Russia. So what happened next?" Alfred asked excitedly, not hearing his brother's sigh at the hunting down Russia part.


	3. Breaking The Habit

**Breath of Life**

**Shadow of an Echo**

**A/N **Well here is the new chapter, and more than half was written while I was under a tornado warning, then the thunderstorm rolled in, and now we're under a flood warning. Oh and did I mention I'm afraid of storms? Ugh. The storm system that's slamming us is coming out of Canada, Matthew if you weren't so sweet I'd be really mad at you right now!

**Chapter Three**  
**Breaking The Habit**

Matthew glanced at his bottle of wine, he'd managed to drink half of it by now, "I think I might have to break out my emergency stash before this is over." He observed.

"Come on dude, you're stalling!" Alfred protested, before it hit him. "Wait, what do you mean you have an emergency stash?" A hint of his famous puppy dog eyes were back, a much better companion Canada thought than the version of America that was around a few moments ago threatening to hunt down Russia. His brother could sure go through some crazy moods.

A grin and a sip of wine extended Matthew's silence until Alfred lost patience and tackled him out of the chair, they tussled on the ground for a few moments, until Canada decided to tell him; "How else do you think I deal with meetings?"

Well that wasn't what America was expecting, "You drink during world conferences?"

Canada shrugged the best he could from where he was pinned, "It's not every meeting eh, just the ones where people piss me off by not giving me my chance to speak. Sometimes I share Ivan's flask, or sneak off with Netherlands if the meeting goes really bad. Like I said it's an emergency stash."

Alfred's eyes went from widely curious, to narrowed and worried, "You really have to go that far to get yourself under control? I mean a bunch of us hit the bars after meetings, but Netherlands? RUSSIA? Mattie, what are you getting into?"

"I'm a big boy America," Matthew reminded, "And it is really hard to deal with being everyone's shadow all the time. If I am noticed, chances are good it's because they think I'm you. If I go to some of the few countries who can actually see me, and they've shown me some relief, why not indulge? I don't do it all the time, and never when I have something important to do for my nation." To prove his point Canada heaved them up and over, startling America by pinning his younger brother down for once.

America pushed against Canada experimentally a few times, but the arctic nation wasn't budging, "All right, all right, you win! You know if you ever showed this side of yourself outside of a hockey ring or when I irritate you then the other nations might just remember you." He groused as Matthew let him up, popping the shoulder wrenched out of place by his brother's tackle.

A little huff, "You think I haven't tried? The only thing that does is make it more likely that people will confuse me for you!" He was already reconsidering letting Alfred up so easily.

Opening another bottle, and refilling his brother's glass in his own way of apologizing, America eventually asked, "So what happened after Romano chased Spain out of the room?"

Allowing the subject change, Matthew continued the story, "Eventually they tired themselves out, and came back to show us around."

XXXXX Breath of Life XXXXX

Canada attempted to contain his staring, it was an incredibly rude habit, but when your tour guide is a widely grinning Spain that happens to be sporting spoon shaped bruises on the side of his head which he seemed to take no notice of; even Canada's manners were put to the test.

Luckily the scenery proved to be a magnificent distraction.

Spain's home, like most of the nation avatars, wasn't a single building precisely, but more a sprawling village with his house at the center. The closer the people lived to his house, the more likely they were to know the truth of the nation avatars, only those who had gained the nation's absolute trust were given the privilege of free access to the house itself. The need for secrecy is what started the tradition of conquering nations bringing the avatar of their colonies back to work in their homes, it was simply too dangerous to trust in human housekeepers.

Spain and Romano enjoyed one of the larger of these villages, it encompassed many acres of farmland in its boundary giving the people breathing room. Little clusters of homes and business sprung up at the edges of the fields, all with the same beautiful aged appearance as the main house. Matthew didn't know if that meant everything really was from the same time period, or just made to look that way, but either way it made for a stunning view.

"Hey Mini-wine Bastard you like this so much, you should see Italy." Romano's gruff voice startled Matthew from his observations as Spain and France started picking on each other like the old friends they were. There was a lot of hugging and a few reprimands about not visiting as much as promised, all covered up with a bit of tussling as they shoved into each other along the path they followed to tour the fields.

Other than the name, which Romano seemed to call everyone by a version of the word bastard, this was the first time Romano had voluntarily spoken to him without hostility. Betting that it had something to do with the fact France and Spain were distracted, Canada took advantage of the situation to talk to him a bit, "I wouldn't mind, but I don't get to go many places. I haven't even been home since the Revolutionary War, unless it was to help Britain beat up my brother." Matthew attempted to keep his voice even, but the wound was too raw to keep all the bitterness out of it.

"Tea Bastard doesn't get any compassion around here," Romano grumbled. "Me I don't really care, but Tomato Bastard got the stuffing beat out of him by the Tea Bastard's pirates, made things difficult around here for a long time."

Canada could only blink, France had knowingly brought him to a country that didn't care for Britain? Just what was he plotting in the perfectly groomed head of his? "Francis knows doesn't he?" He had to confirm that, or he could jump to some really poor conclusions.

Romano gave a little huff, and gestured to the two nations still teasing each other ahead of them, "What are you an idiota? Of course Wine Bastard knows. Why wouldn't he?" There was a very slight edge of curiosity in the last question beyond the incredulous tone. A crack in the wall of Romano's irritable exterior.

"I'm trying to understand why Francis would bring me here when he knows I'm already mad at Britain, they have an agreement when it concerns me; it used to apply to America too but that ended when he got his independence." Matthew was too honest to consider lying, and had too much on his mind to stay quiet, the only option left was to talk to Romano.

"Let me guess, Wine Bastard is allowed to approach you, or your brother, only as long as he does not tempt either of you to rebel against Tea Bastard in any way?" Romano hit the nail on the head his first try.

Canada's surprise was obvious by his wide-eyed expression, backed-up by his sputtering, "How did you know?"

"You are not the first countries to be fought over, and be won by different masters." Romano reminded harshly, but he continued anyway. "Obviously Tomato Bastard won control of me, but Piano Bastard, oh all right that's Austria to you, won control of my brother. They each have similar agreements in place for any of the nations that were in the wars for control over us, it means they can still see us, but it removes the temptation to play the 'if I can't have you no one can' game; they're all a bunch of bastards."

Canada nibbled on his lip, before deciding to ask his next question of the older nation, older but in a similar position to him so he might know things, "Has anyone ever broken that contract?"

"A few have tried," Romano admitted. "Mostly for Feliciano, the only one to make an attempt for me was Turkey. He was never one for contracts anyway."

Canada noticed right away the exceptions to Romano's Bastard designations, his brother and the former Ottoman empire. "You don't call Turkey Bastard?" There was much more hesitancy in this question, but it was enough of an oddity he felt justified asking about it.

"If you've ever fought him, you would know why Mini-wine Bastard." Romano huffed.

Matthew was beginning to understand, if Romano knew them, they were fair game and were likely to be called bastard. If he knew them well he tailored the name to suit the nation, such as Tomato or Wine Bastard, but if it was someone he loved like his brother, or feared like Turkey, he dropped the terms. Complicated yes, but it suited the fiery Italian.

"Can you call me something else? I'm more than just a copy of Francis." He didn't know where the courage to say that came from, but there was no turning back now.

Romano glared, "That's not how it works, you're Mini-wine Bastard until I see something different about you."

"I've gotta prove myself?" Canada made a pretty good attempt at curling in on himself while standing up. He wasn't so good at showing off, he tended to get overlooked, especially while America was still around.

Another of those irritable huffs, "What has that Tea Bastard done to you? The only time you can go home is to fight, and now you go all weak kneed at the thought of someone judging you even if it's to find the right name to insult you with. I can't take this anymore."

With that Romano grabbed Canada's arm and dragged him forward bodily, not bothering to ask him, or wait for compliance. His destination was France and Spain, drawing up to the elder blonde nation, "Hey Wine Bastard, you've got some explaining to do. You're going against your contract with Tea Bastard for him aren't you?"

Judging by the gob smacked expressions Romano being both caustic and concerned was something different.

"Now Roma, what makes you think I would break my word to anyone, let alone my dear Angleterre?" Francis questioned, using a blasé attitude to deal with Romano's harsh one.

"He's a worse mess than Feli was after that Stalker Bastard left." Oh that's what it was, Matthew reminded him of his brother; now Matthew was curious about another thing, who was this stalker? "And don't call me that!" Romano snapped as an afterthought. Matthew thought it was a bit telling he was concerned enough to answer the question before dealing with the usual irritation. Or maybe he was just hoping.

The normally happy-go-lucky Spain did a 180 in attitude, emerald green eyes hardening in suspicion shades of the former conquistador returning in his stance with his seriousness, but he still spoke gently to Canada, "Has England been harming his colonies? Has he hurt you Mateo?"

It was not lost on Canada that Spain had gone beyond the use of his human name, albeit what he assumed was the Spanish version of it, and had completely disrespected Britain by using his country name instead of his empire.

Human names were considered a term of endearment when in private, though a bit rude if not given permission to do so. Dropping the empire name to return to the original nation was nothing but an insult, no exceptions or exclusions, even Britain's older brothers called him Britain when in his presence though they retained their original names. Only when the empire was dissolved did the nation return to their original name, or a new name to represent the changed borders of their country.

The few seconds he spent thinking about Spain's word choice was a few he could use to avoid the questions posed to him. "I… I… I don't know." He finally admitted, looking down at his dust covered shoes. "I didn't used to think so, it was Alfred always getting mad at everything, but I kind of understood. Britain spent more time with him, all the rules and responsibility were on his shoulders when he just wanted to run around and have fun. He knew when to be serious, he just didn't think he should have to be as much as Britain wanted him to be."

"Mateo, Mateo," Spain interrupted, still looking at him with the same combination of seriousness looks and gentle tone, "I didn't ask about your brother, I asked about you. I swear you are just like my Lovi."

The quiet but firm, "Don't call me that!" Was muffled by France's hold on Romano. He'd grabbed the furious Italian in a headlock at the moment he knew interference would be necessary to keep him from interrupting Antonio working with his Mathieu. Now was not the time for Romano's stubbornness.

Canada refused to look up from his shoes, he just didn't know how to answer, and he shrugged helplessly.

"Come on now, tell us, no one here will judge you. You can not lose anything by admitting the truth." Spain encouraged.

Nibbling on his lip again from nervous habit, he tried to get his thoughts in order before hesitantly admitting, "He treats his colonies well, the countries themselves, but the Avatars…" He stalled out and started fidgeting, not wanting to finish.

"Oh for the love of, just tell them already!" Romano groused, managed to wiggle out of France's hold from all the practice he had eluding Spain.

"He doesn't harm us, like hit us hurt us, but I guess he doesn't treat us too well in other ways." Canada eventually confessed with the push from Romano. "He gets paranoid and frustrated easily, and I guess he sorta takes it out on us? Alfred was the first to fight back, but there are a couple of us older ones that are mad too."

"This is very important Mateo," Spain pressed on, "Do you like living with England? Everyone gets mad, that's normal, but if you had a choice would you keep going back anyway?"

Feeling like he was betraying a part of himself, the part the was Britain's through and through, Matthew slowly shook his head, no he didn't like it.

Spain nodded, and then made a deep sweeping bow to Matthew, "Then I welcome you Canada to Spain, Antonio Fernandez Carriedo at your service. Mateo, I can't say you won't have to go back, but we will make it so when you do, England will listen to you."

He couldn't stop himself, "You can really do that? How?"

"That over puffed island of a country is not the only one who has ever had colonies, I gained mine the same as he did, and so did Francis. He WILL learn treating the country well isn't the only thing that counts for us. It might satisfy our bosses but we hold each other accountable for the care of the colony avatars." Spain was proud and attached to his Armada, the loss at the hands of Britain had not been forgotten by a long shot, but this was not being done purely for revenge.

He could have made a move against Britain several times over since the loss, but that would have been petty, and wouldn't have accomplished anything. Nations had to think of the welfare of their people before running into battle at every impulse, no matter the grudge.  
However if Britain was mistreating his colonies, even if the only portion he was harming was the humanoid one, than Spain was not going to sit back any longer. This was something he could do without harming his people, he might just get back at Britain, and there was something good to be gotten from acting; a win, win, win scenario.

Francis spoke up from there, "He's right Mathieu, I confess to bringing you here so you might see how things might be different. Angleterre is difficult to get along with on a good day, and his colonies see him on his worst days, it was not hard to realize you might need this."

"You think I should leave him like Alfred did?" Matthew asked quietly, gut wrenching at the thought, remembering the recent war he had just lived through.

Francis realized what the sudden paling meant, and patted his golden hair, so much like his own, "I thought it would be nice if someone let you see what else there was my Mathieu. A choice, that is what I am giving you. Alfred's way was harsh and impulsive, just what I would expect from our Amerique, Cher maybe you can find a way more suited for you oui?"

Matthew didn't think his speechlessness was unexpected under the circumstances.

XXXX Breath of Life XXXX

Getting through that part of the story had taken a lot out of Matthew, or more precisely, out of his wine bottle; only a quarter of it was left. Not enough to finish the story.

"So it was France and Spain that got you to rebel against Arthur, not me?" Alfred asked curiously, either not seeing or ignoring the forlorn look his brother threw at the steadily emptying wine bottle.

Abandoning his starring contest with the container, he replied, "It was really a bit of both. You put the idea in my head, but they made me realize that I could do it too."

"But Mattie, you and I know now, it's a big deal to break one of those colony contracts; France was risking a lot but it doesn't seem like anything changed, how did you guys get away with it?" Alfred really could be serious when he wanted to be, and he was showing that now, although many at the conferences would be surprised that he even knew that much about the official side of nation business. America was good at his job, he did his duty well when called on, and Canada knew it.

"You know how people always think I'm invisible?" Canada waited for his brother's nod to finish, "It's a part of that, but I can't explain it until I get to the end of the story."

"Did anyone ever tell you that you are a master of cliffhangers?" Alfred groused.

"Alfred, you and Kuma are the only ones to listen to me for so long eh, and the only things he asks me are 'who are you?' and 'where's the food?' so does that answer your question?" Matthew pointed out.

"Well you are," Alfred reiterated.


	4. Bailamos

**Breath of Life**

**Shadow of an Echo**

**A/N **Hey thought I would do a little explaining here on my concept of Romano, and this is purely my own thinking and nothing formal about the show or anything, but I have a bit of a pet peeve regarding his swearing when it comes to historical stories like this one. Yes he swears, he always has, but it's how he swears that changes to me over time. The way I see it Italy being the heart of the Catholic faith, Romano would not use religious based swear words, such as damn you or go to Hell. As the world modernized and he relaxed then that type of cursing would enter his vocabulary, but for the purpose of this story and my own version of the character, I'm sticking with the religious neutral word bastard (well at least neutral in the form he uses it in) and the like.

Also I mention instruments in this chapter, I did do research into traditional Spanish music, but there was a lot of conflicting information on where and when the different instruments were introduced to Spain, so I stuck with three that cropped up most often that fit with the mood I wanted to set, and generalized the rest. Hopefully I did alright.

**Chapter Four  
**

**Bailamos**

"Well thank you for the compliment, but I don't mean to leave you hanging, so it is hardly a cliffhanger." Canada teased, taking a drink of wine to further delay his impatient brother.

He would need the alcohol numbing his nerves for later in the story anyway, he would definitely be tapping into his flask though, but it would get him through. He hadn't realized how much this story had needed to be told until he got going. The fun little story was turning into a monster.

America huffed, "Just because you don't mean to doesn't mean it won't happen! I really want to know what happens next, come on please tell me?"

"Relax Al, I wasn't going anywhere, just getting my thoughts together. There was a lot going on between France and Spain that I didn't find out until later, but I don't know what the best way to tell you would be. I guess I can tell you the same way I found out, after everything happened and France explained it, or I can tell it as part of the story, I'm not sure; either way would have its drawbacks." Matthew debated aloud for his brother to have a choice in the matter.

"Do you have to ask?" Well okay, so, Matthew hadn't actually, you know, asked, but close enough. "Now that I know there is more to it, tell it all together! Please! Please! Please!" And… there they were, the puppy dog eyes were back.

"Oh alright, but just to warn you it could get a little dicey for you eh? The two of them were um, close, during the trip." Canada warned carefully.

"Uh Mattie, I know they're close, why is that a problem?" Alfred asked curiously.

Here Canada straightened up in his chair and looked his brother straight in the eye, "Because it could be hazardous to your health if you make any jokes about Francis being who he is. I know what some of the other countries think about him, and I will not tolerate it from you got it? You should know him nearly as well as I do, so just please, actually listen to the story and don't judge him too fast."

Alfred sat blinking in a bit of shock, but soon shook it off, "You mean about the groping right?"

"Yes, Francis is a very affectionate and tactile person, he enjoys beauty in all its forms and likes to reach out to it, but it really makes me angry when people think the worst of him for it." Canada declared adamantly.

To his credit America retained his usual demeanor in the face of his brother's unusually forceful mood, "So tell me how it really went?" He prompted hopefully.

"Well, as it turns out, when Lovino was grilling me over my behavior; that was exactly what Antonio and Francis were hoping for. France took me to Spain so I could heal, but the way he wanted me to do that wasn't through sunshine and daisies. He was hoping Romano would pick up on my issues and start shaking me out of them." Matthew admitted.

"Why would he need Romano for that? If he knew that's what you needed, than why not do it himself?" Alfred couldn't get that figured out.

Matthew got a sad look on his face, "He couldn't, he was still under the colony contract with Britain remember? There was a possibility of me being so angry with Britain I would try to break away too, and that would violate the agreement they had if he was the one talking to me when it happened. I know he helped you during the Revolutionary war, but he didn't go to you until after you had already declared yourself independent. The contract was already broken in other words. Say what you will about Francis, but he keeps his word."

"I never saw it like that," Alfred fully admitted, "He even brought one of his friends, Prussia, to help me too. My soldiers learned a lot from them."

"That is something Francis had that Arthur didn't, friends. Britain was a huge empire, with a lot of colonies, but if he didn't rule them than he didn't have much contact. France had a smaller range of territories, but had a greater variety of equals, it was his advantage." Canada informed, although it was more of a reminder. All of this was things America had known at some point before, but his brother preferred to live in the here and now rather than dwelling on the past. It kept him from ending up like Arthur who broke down whenever there was a little too much ale in his system.

America whistled in appreciation, "It's amazing how it can come down to something so simple isn't it? If they fought alone Arthur was stronger, but Francis made sure he didn't have to fight alone." He mused.

Canada glared at his brother, "It wasn't always that way, France was once very strong!" He argued.

"I didn't say he wasn't!" America defended quickly, not wanting the story to be delayed by a wrestling match again. "Just during the time we are talking about he was, right?"

Matthew took a deep breath to calm himself, realizing he was overreacting a bit, maybe it was the wine? Oh well, not enough people knew who Francis really was, and as one of the few who did, Matthew stuck by him as much as possible. "Sorry about that, I get worked up about this. I'll just get back to the story, the next little bit is less of a strain to tell so it should calm me down." He decided.

"Yeah!" The exclamation was accompanied by a happy fist pump. The story was getting exciting, and America was on the edge of his seat as Canada continued.

XXXXX Breath of Life XXXXX

Matthew's speechlessness brought on by Francis was broken by the aforementioned nation ruffling his hair, "It's going to be okay Mathieu. No matter what you decide to do, my little lapin will be fine."

Matthew couldn't help it, he glared at France, "I'm not a scared little rabbit anymore, I'll be just like Alfred, I will!"

Francis laughed richly, "Oh Mathieu, cher, the world can only handle one Alfred, maybe you should just be Matthew and stop worrying about catching up? When you are a nation it isn't a race to the finish."

Spain added onto the statement, "Racing only makes you find the heartache faster Mateo." There was pain in his voice, old, deep pain. There was a lot of regret in this powerful empire, many things to be proud of for the strength of his people and sorrowful for the loss of so many others that could have been his had he chosen another way.

"But weren't you two just saying I might need to escape Britain? How do I do that without fighting like Alfred did?" Matthew was so confused, and feeling incredibly lost.

It shouldn't have been as startling as it was to have Romano interrupt them, "Did you ever think fighting maybe isn't the answer? For the love of pizza everyone needs to wake up." The last part was half-grumbled and probably only meant for himself, but Matthew was close enough to hear him anyway.

"If fighting isn't the answer than what is?" The young colony demanded from the Italian. If he was going to complain about Matthew's dilemma, did that mean he knew what should be done?

No one expected the sheer venom radiating off Romano, "If I knew the answer to that, do you think I would just stand by and watch as my grandfather, my brother, and my boss all fought their way into misery?"

That earned Romano a glomping by Antonio, with the exclamation, "Oh Lovi I knew you cared!" While Francis focused on Canada in the meantime.

"This time he does have a point," He admitted sadly. "Breaking away from Britain probably would involve fighting at some point, but Alfred was impulsive and angry when he made the choice to run. You don't have to be the same. We aren't even saying you have to go so far as to run completely, look at Roma, he stayed with Spain. If you think they quarrel now you should have seen them when he first arrived." The bright smile crossing Francis' face at mentioning their hosts was more than a little mischievous. "That's what Romano is getting at by assuming you will have to fight. When I say I'm giving you a choice, I mean it."

Matthew nibbled on his lip again, a bad habit neither of his guardian's had managed to break him of, "Why did you help Alfred? I know you Francis, you two fight all the time, but you don't hate Arthur as much as it looks, so why help my brother leave?"

France just shook his head and tapped a finger to his lips in a gesture of secrecy, "I don't think you're ready to know that yet Mathieu. I will tell you, but not now. I give you my word I will answer that question after you make up your mind what you want to do about Angleterre yourself."

Seeing the serious side of Francis come out, Matthew realized he wouldn't persuade him no matter the argument, so he just nodded in acceptance.

At that point, Spain came up between them, swinging an arm around each of their shoulder's giving Canada an up-close look at the newly added bruises courtesy of Romano. "Hey you two, the sun's getting petty low now, let's head back into town and I'll show you the best part of España!"

Romano came up next to Canada, who was expecting some kind of protest or insult, what he got was, "Well, why are you just standing there Tomato Bastard? Let's go or they will start without us!"

It was Romano who lead the way out of the fields and back towards the largest cluster of businesses, Matthew and Francis being dragged along by Antonio like they were the ends of an yoke. At least Francis was laughing and trying to poke at Antonio's side, which made the brunette laugh in return and bump sideways into Matthew to avoid the questing hand. Judging from the teasing, Spain was highly ticklish and France was capitalizing on the weakness, and even though he was being jostled around by their playing, Matthew couldn't stop the shy smile from sneaking onto his face.

Which Romano got caught stealing glances at by Spain, who started teasing him mercilessly, leading to yet more bruises on him.

Luckily, it wasn't a very long walk into town, so Romano couldn't injure Spain too badly in the interim, but he gave it a pretty good try. Matthew was learning to step back out of the way when Francis did, the older nation wouldn't let any true harm come to his friend, so if he was staying out of it than Antonio could handle it and was more or less allowing it to continue.

Despite Romano's worries, they weren't late, but enough people had gathered by the time the quartet had arrived that Matthew figured out what was going on. Musicians were setting up, tuning battered guitars, polished trumpets, pairs of castanets, and so many more Matthew couldn't put a name to. All of this going on in the center of town were there was a wide open courtyard, with tables scattered at the edges for people to sit and watch the musicians and dancers.

They were coming to hear the music!

Spain momentarily left their side to speak with a few of his people, the language flying by so fast Matthew couldn't keep up. He knew some Spanish, some of his country was still controlled by Spain, but as he himself hadn't had any contact in recent memory with the happy-go-lucky country it wasn't enough to translate the rapid flow of the conversation.

He was a marvelous host though and didn't leave them for long returning with a bottle of wine tucked into the crook of his arm, a stack of kiln fired cups that he held precariously in one hand, and two pairs of castanets plus a corkscrew in the other. Only managing the feat by threading the sturdy cords of the instrument through his fingers backwards, and palming the corkscrew, it was not an easy thing but it looked like he might have done this before.

Francis relieved him of the wine and cups, granting him the ability to safely set down the simple wooden instruments and metal tool. "You could have asked for help!" He admonished after helping the brunette set down his burden.

"No, you are guests, and I had everything under control." Spain reminded. "Now please relax and enjoy for a few moments, I asked and the music should start soon." With that he opened the wine, and poured everyone a glass, passing Matthew the first one to his surprise.

The wine was dark red, he had never seen wine so red, he had been allowed to drink before, and with Francis wine was the preferred drink, but this was something fascinating. It swirled and shimmered in an intriguing way with the setting sun, and dark brown stone of the cup as a backdrop. Somehow, he couldn't imagine drinking this wine from a fancy stemmed crystal glass as he had done with France before, no this setting was perfect. A taste of it proved the experience was utterly new as well, something wild and spicy, hints of the free spirited Antonio was felt in this wine, just as there was a touch of the simple and refined Francis in his.

His eyes widened at the uniquely startling flavor, letting out a sound of surprise and approval. The barest hint of a groan mixed with a sigh, that he didn't even realize was audible by anyone else until he heard the chuckling of Spain and France making him open his eyes. They were both looking at him, France with affection and Spain with pride since it was his wine that caused such pleasure, but they shared in being amused at his reaction.

Romano was the one to speak however, "Odd way of acting for someone who doesn't want me calling them after Wine Bastard." He was the picture of calm as he took a drink of his own wine, well almost.

"Why are you blushing Lovi?" Spain teased, earning a growl.

Romano scowled at Spain, "I wasn't blushing Tomato Bastard, and don't call me that!"

"Oh but you were my Lovi, such a nice blush was gracing your cheeks at dear sweet Mateo getting his first taste of good Spanish wine. Could it be my Lovi saw something he likes?" Knowing what was coming, Spain hastily drained his cup and fled the table, grabbing two of the castanets as he went just in time for a violently angry Lovino to chase him out of his seat.

His intention became clear when he stopped running in the middle of the square and started to play the little instruments. Striking up a beat that he made up off the top of his head that just felt right to him, smooth and simple when you first heard it, but it was also cheerful and excited. It was like he had captured the essence of who he was and put it into the music, they knew Austria could do such a thing with his piano, but to hear it from nothing but two tiny wooden objects held in the palm of your hand was something amazing.

And if that wasn't enough, he started to move with the beat, dancing along to the rhythm, it wasn't the contained formal step dances Matthew was used to seeing. It was as free and wild as everything else he had seen since coming to Spain, as was fitting for the country of passion. He leaped and turned, spun and twirled, letting the movement of his body translate into the music he played.

Especially after he pulled Romano into the dance as the other musicians began to play. For once there was no surprise that Romano was as unrestrained as Antonio, throwing himself into the dancing, the melody flowing over him until he was lost to it. Romano was many things, but restrained wasn't one of them. He spoke his mind, he threw himself into debate and confrontation willingly and deliberately on occasions; so why on earth would he be shy about this?

"Mathieu we should join them, watching is fun sometimes, but this is one time where it is better to do than to not." Francis advised, watching with a hidden grin as his protégé couldn't take his eyes off Romano.

Having gotten to the bottom of the glass, Matthew felt a bit of courage, "If you think I can do it, okay let's go."

"Here's the trick. Don't think about it." France advised, yanking Canada away from the table and towards Spain and Romano, "There isn't a right or wrong, just go with what feels best." Following that and with a devilish smirk Francis gave a shove and because it was unexpected, Matthew stumbled away from him and towards Romano.

He caught himself, but not before he noticed the southern Italian in the crowd of people up dancing. Romano had his arms raised over his head, head tilted back eyes closed as he spun quickly with the measure of the guitar. He moved right into a leap from the spin, landing smoothly, before crouching into a tight spin that Matthew had only seen someone do on ice before, never while on land.

That's when he caught himself staring, and deciding it would be just as embarrassing to be caught standing still as a statue watching Romano, he jumped into the dance next to him.

At first he wasn't sure what to do, he felt clumsy and slow on his feet next to Romano who was so smooth and relaxed at this.

He hadn't realized Romano wasn't as oblivious to his attempts as it looked until, "Relax, you have to relax, you will never get any further if you keep going like someone covered you in marble." Romano never stopped moving to correct him, but at least his comments weren't as harsh as they usually were.

Matthew tried, he really did, to follow Romano's advice, but now that he knew he was being watched he was so self conscious it made it hard for him to relax, and other important things like breathing.

That whole breathing thing became impossible when he felt the slim but strong body of Romano brush against his. "I thought I told you to relax?" Romano reprimanded, cheeks flushed, whether from dancing or the contact Matthew didn't know.

"I can't," Matthew admitted hopelessly, "I'm not used to people watching me." Especially attractive Italians went unsaid.

"Be confidant, the music will carry you through the motions, I can do this because I don't even know the people are there anymore. Just think about you and the beat." Romano's tips were a lot more enlightening than France had been, and the way he seemed to relax around Matthew with the energy of the music and the flare of the dancing had him trusting in the advice.

From there he just let go, not worried about trying his best, or if he looked like a fool. He only wanted Romano to see he was listening to him. He forgot the people, his awkwardness, the probable spying of a pair of older nations, and focused on the music and the taste of wine on his tongue.

It must have worked because even if Romano did brush up against him from time to time, he didn't bother to correct him again. He did point out something later on in the evening, as the sun was sinking below the horizon and the stars were starting to appear, Spain and France embracing, the nation of passion bestowing a kiss on the nation of romance.

Canada had only been partially right about the nosy nations. Francis had gone right to Antonio after shoving Matthew at Romano. Having none of the qualms his former colony had, Francis had been able to jump right into the dance. Enjoying playing off of Antonio's enticement with teases of his own, it was a game they had played together for a long time.

Getting Antonio's attention when he was caught up in the moment like this could take some doing, but Francis was up to the challenge. Thousands of little tricks about how to catch the eye and keep it where you want it learned over centuries were put to good use, and he eventually got what he wanted when emerald green eyes landed on him and darkened with furthered excitement.

Antonio moved against him, wanting a kiss, Francis moved away raising a hand to brush it gently along his tanned cheek, "Not yet, look at Roma and Mathieu!" He couldn't hold it in anymore.

The laugh Antonio gave wasn't the usual easy chuckle he gave at the drop of a hat, this was deep and throaty, reserved for when he was truly amused or aroused. Right now was most likely a combination of both.

"Lovi has taken to him well, you were right as always," Antonio observed, the pace of his dance not broken, Francis reading him easily enabling him to keep up.

"I always know," Francis prided himself on this, "They may chose to acknowledge or not, but they can not hide from me the perfection of the connection that any two may share."

"Si, you always do know these things," Antonio agreed. "My worry was if Lovi would allow it to bloom, and he has. Such sweet roses those two will make."

"I can not wait to bask in the perfection of the blooms," Francis agreed, the pair falling silent in time to see Matthew finally getting the hang of the freeform dancing.

"Oh look at that, Lovi can't keep his eyes off him, he dances much like you do." Antonio complimented slyly, eyeing up the Frenchmen.

Francis barely had time to gulp before being glomped by the Spaniard, a trail of kisses going up his neck and across his jaw before meeting his lips. Antonio had lasted longer than he had expected, the thought making him smile into the kiss, threading his fingers into thick brunette hair. This was something familiar, safe, and calming.

Francis was the tease, Antonio the impulsive one, and Francis just loved working him up until he lost it and started kissing him all over. Spain's attentions weren't painful or rough, they were genuine, raw, and honest; all the passion that was his country's reputation controlled within him. Francis had never left an encounter with Spain feeling used, or worse like Spain felt France had taken advantage of him, just refreshingly adored and worshipped.

Good god he could spend hours kissing, what came after was good too, but this, this was what made Antonio special.

Francis never saw Romano spy them, or that he had shown Matthew. Spain was the one to see that. He didn't care though. Joy this deep was something to be shared and celebrated.

XXXXX Breath of Life XXXXX

"Alfred, you okay?" Matthew asked slyly, his brother not looking so good at this part of the story, kind of flushed and sweaty.

America jumped slightly at being addressed directly, "Holy mother of video games! You got to see that? How is it I miss all the good stuff? Romano taught you to do that crazy cool Spanish dancing, and France and Spain making out like that? I would have really, really liked to be there!"

Matthew was wondering when they started adding caffeine to beer the way his brother was so excited, but then he realized how much he would regret not seeing something like this himself and understood. "It was amazing." He agreed quietly. "I will never forget that night. It was the first time I had seen Francis show his vulnerable side, I knew he had it, but first time I saw it. Romano, well, that was just so much more than I could have ever dreamed would happen. One day I'm staring at the hedges at Britain's house, and not long after I'm trying not to stare at one hell of a gorgeous Italian. The shift was hard to handle, but I wouldn't give it up for anything."

"For being invisible, you sure are one lucky guy," Alfred decided.

"On that day, I think I was the luckiest person in the world." Matthew didn't even bother to argue.

**A/N2** I am trying something a little different with the pairings in this story, it is going to be Spain/France, and Canada/Romano. Yes that order. I think Canada is a dominant, especially in the canon time period, and Romano is a powerful submissive. In my opinion all good dominants should have a relationship with a strong submissive, or a passive dominant, these two groups are the most likely to whip a developing dominant into shape so they know what they are doing and are less likely to cause harm to a completely submissive person who can't/won't fight back. This is coming from me being a little bored of the standard issue seme/uke story when I know there is other dynamics considering I've been in them.


	5. We Are

**Breath of Life**

**Shadow of an Echo**

**A/N** ...It's official Hetalia has taken over the internet, do you have any idea how freakin hard it is to research actual historical interactions between countries that does not redirect into a debate between fanon and canon O.O I'm trying desperately to get at least a ball park timeline of when the nations might have met each other in historical settings, and I have to wade through page after page of Hetalia results to find any real information. So from here on out, I am still going to try, but assume I am referring to the avatars of the two nations meeting, and not the original people/bosses/explorers from those places. That's the best solution I can come up with.

Also the story arc started here will take two chapters to tell, I'm sorry but there was just too much to get crammed into this one without sacrificing detail and making you guys wait another two or three weeks while I researched and seared my brain attempting to work it out.

**Chapter Five**

**We Are**

"Hey Mattie?" America asked cautiously once he had gotten himself under control again, at least when it was just the two of them his moments of excitability didn't tend to last a horribly long time. At his brother's nod of acknowledgement, he continued, "How come you never told me this before? You know every little thing about my revolution, but I always thought you stood up to Arthur because of me, and now I feel like I don't know anything." Alfred admitted.

Canada had to take a few moments to gather his thoughts before he could answer, the question catching him off guard, though he probably should have expected it at some point. "I never really told anyone about this, not Russia, Netherlands, or Ukraine. Australia knows some of it, only because he remembers when France took me from Britain's house, and when I got back from Spain; but I'm getting ahead of myself. I didn't exactly come by my decision in a usual way so I just let people come to their own conclusions, well the ones that remembered me anyway."

"So far it's seemed like a pretty typical rebellion, at least it sounds a lot like what I felt when I left Arthur." Alfred commented.

Matthew was a bit reluctant, "…Lovino has interesting methods of persuading people to his way of thinking. I might have been mad at Arthur, but I couldn't see my way past the stumbling block of not wanting to fight, yet being tired of the smothering."

The look of wide-eyed shock on America was amusing, "Are you implying what I think you are?"

"Maybe?" Matthew teased, while removing a silver flask from his pocket, unscrewing the cap and taking a swig to supplement his dwindling wine supply.

"We are talking about Romano right? The one who always seems to be in a bad mood and swears up a storm?" Alfred couldn't stop himself from asking, even as his eyes didn't leave the flask in his brother's hand, "And do I want to know what's in that?"

"First of all, yes we are talking about Romano, and you of all nations should know better than to judge by appearances alone. You don't like it when the others look at you and only see the dork and not the hero underneath." Okay so there may have been a slight jab there, but hey Alfred was his little brother, he was allowed just no one else.

Alfred heard the comment anyway, "I'm not a dork!" He protested.

Matthew just stared at him for a few moments, waiting.

"Okay so maybe a little bit, but it's not that bad!" He insisted, caving under the silent pressure of violet eyes. "You never did answer about that flask by the way." Alfred reminded, looking for any topic to distract attention off of him.

Canada responded by passing it to him, "It's just some schnapps."

"What flavor?" Alfred asked curiously taking the flask.

"Apple," Matthew answered calmly, a little glimmer of mischievousness in his eyes as he watched his brother open the flask and tilt it back for a shot.

Only for him to choke and splutter, tears coming to his eyes at the unexpected intensity of the burn. "What the Hell Mattie?!" He complained after pulling himself together.

Matthew was too busy laughing his head off to answer immediately, but eventually he was able to respond as he wiped the tears from his eyes, "Did I forget to mention it was German schnapps? I get it from Prussia. He found out I only drank vodka with Ivan because it was there and not because I like it, so he introduced me to this."

Now that America knew what he was in for, he could take another sip without attempting to kill himself off, "It is good, but remind me again how you and Prussia got to be good buddies?"

"Do you know about the diaries?" They weren't exactly a huge secret, but America could be a bit oblivious.

"Yeah, he keeps a record of everything. He was writing in them when he was helping with my soldiers in the revolution." Ah, so Alfred was paying attention to the people helping him; that was good.

"I'm in them, seems it's hard to forget the nation that kicked your ass in a world war. My boys fought hard and it left an impression on Prussia. Believe me; I was just as surprised as anyone else was that he remembered me at first." The first time the silver haired Prussian had approached him after a meeting, he had pilfered Ivan's flask from his pocket while being sat on during the conference. Russia and him had an understanding, Ivan got a squishy chair and some of his precious vodka went missing, and for once their little exchange had been noticed.

Prussia had wanted to know why in the world a nation that fought like a demon on the battlefield would let himself be a piece of furniture. The arrangement with the seat, the missing vodka, and their violent hockey matches was explained and suddenly Matthew found himself with a new friend and a tastier selection of alcohol.

"Sounds like Prussia alright," America agreed.

"Yeah, but I didn't meet him until WWII, France knows what he is doing when introducing us to his friends. He took Prussia to you, and you have to admit you do act fairly similarly, but he took me to Spain and Romano. I think it's safe to say they were good choices." Matthew analyzed.

"Yeah they were good choices." Alfred agreed. "Soooo, Mattie, you gonna tell me what those 'special methods' Romano had for persuading you were?"

"I should be getting back to the story now shouldn't I?" Canada mused.

"Oh definitely, you owe me for that trick with the booze," Alfred pouted.

"Fine, fine, well after the dancing was over, we started heading back to Spain's house…"

XXXXX Breath of Life XXXXX

The two elder nations were once again in the lead as they headed up the path towards Spain's home. This time instead of the lighthearted play fighting they had been engaging in earlier, the wine had heightened their spirits, and in between moments of spontaneous dancing, one or the other would pull their old friend in for a kiss.

Behind them, Matthew and Romano watched in a kind of bemused shock as their guardians acted like a couple of love struck youths, despite being centuries old.

"I forgot how Tomato Bastard gets around Wine Bastard, its going to be a long night." Romano grumbled quietly, keeping his voice low enough Spain and France wouldn't hear him. That alone told Canada he didn't intend to actively break them up, despite the complaint.

Matthew took advantage of the opportunity, "You've seen them like this before?"

A derisive snort came from the southern Italian, "Of course I have, Tomato Bastard and Wine Bastard go back and forth owning my country, sometimes Piano Bastard sticks his nose into things, but it doesn't last long. Tomato Bastard sees to it that I go where I chose to when the battles over my land happen, but you should know as well as I do the colony contracts can really only apply to us specifically and not our territory or people. We can advise our bosses who to support and when the best time to act would be, making the contracts necessary, but in the end our people have far more influence over us then we do over them, and we have no choice but to obey our bosses when they order us into a war or campaign designed to conquer."

"Sometimes it is our choice to go to war though," Matthew remembered, thinking of America breaking away from Britain. "My brother left by his choice."

Romano let out a half-growl, "I know some about your brother, his revolution was considered a miracle; it should never have worked. He was too young and impulsive, basically throwing a tantrum, and he was going against a much older and stronger power that has fought many more wars than you can imagine. Tea Bastard survived raids by my Grandpa Rome, he might not have come out of it the same way as he started, but he can't argue the fact he survived while so many others failed. Let me tell you this, your brother was not working alone. He may have had personal issues with your guardian, but if his people were not backing the decision to go to war, with all their tenacity and spirit, he would have failed."

"How do we know how much is coming from us, and how much is influence from our people?" This was something no one had ever explained to him before, he was just a colony his guardian took care of the big decisions.

"You haven't been taught that?" Romano asked incredulously. "Not even Wine Bastard showed you?"

That piqued Matthew's curiosity, "So there is a way to know more than just guessing?"

"Of course there is!" Romano was getting more irritable and impatient with every word, "If there wasn't we couldn't do our job as advisor and overseer of the country. We are there to act as a buffer between the land and the people, to know when there is something wrong and help fix it when that happens."

"So what's the way?" Matthew asked, far more excited then he usually got, but he figured he had a good reason to be.

Romano had to visibly shake himself in order to regain a semblance of control, "It's not really something I can just tell you." At the way the young blond seemed to deflate, for once he felt a tug of guilt, "But I can show you."

In front of the younger pair, the Spaniard felt the Frenchmen smirk into their latest kiss, prompting him to whisper, "Part of your plan?"

"Non, I'll admit, I simply didn't have the opportunity to show my Mathieu the method before he was whisked away by Angleterre, and I didn't realize he wasn't shown afterwards. That doesn't mean I cannot appreciate the perfection of your Lovi's spontaneity." Francis confessed.

Antonio allowed his laughter to flow smoothly into the purple dusk, his enthusiasm and amusement adding up to make him feel almost drunk with the sensations. Things hadn't been going so well for Spain, he had needed a night of relaxation, France's warm presence, and the budding closeness of their two younglings was the perfect remedy to the blues claiming his soul. Not willing to fight the building mirth, he let the emotion control his limbs as he spun Francis around in a graceful twirl, a parody of their earlier dancing, before pulling him back into another kiss. He lingered for several long moments to savor the taste before pulling away to reply, "Only you could have such a perfect opportunity fall into your lap. As for Lovi, he hides much from prying eyes, it is good to see your Mateo bring it out in him once more."

Each kiss, each touch of hands or lips, were lingering longer now, "I believe the two of them are the salve for each others wounds. My only regret is they were not found sooner. Such pain should not come to these young ones, we should have taught them more so they learned from our mistakes, not fallen prey to our weaknesses." A flash of brunette hair, a white shift, and flickering flames went through his mind causing him to shake his head, trying to clear the memory of his beautifully doomed Jeanne.

Spain saw the momentary agony for what it was, those truly close to the nation of love knew there was only one memory that could drive Francis into that dark bleak place he was dangerously close to delving into. In response, he grasped both of France's hands, and gently kissed first one eyelid and then the other, before dropping lower for a more possessive kiss of his lips. "Hush, pain is not so bad a thing if it is taken well, and used to make them strong. My Lovi and your Mateo will not be broken from a few bumps in their path, but if they do not encounter those stones, how will they know how to pick themselves up when we are not there to do it for them any longer? They cannot stay colonies forever, no matter how much we wish it."

"And what if those bumps give them scars like ours?" France felt himself melting again, hearing what he needed to hear, with Antonio so good at seeing to the heart of people's pain and easing it.

The smile he received in return was strong and proud, like the empire they both had been, and still were, "Then they carry them as faithfully as we do, and hopefully they learn the lessons those scars have to teach the first time around."

France barely had time for one last kiss of acknowledgement and agreement, before the quartet managed to stumble their way back into Spain's home. Spain, as the truly gracious host he was, had been about to untangle himself from Francis to make sure Matthew was taken care of when Romano interrupted.

"Just go Tomato Bastard, take care of Wine Bastard and try not to traumatize us. I already greeted them for you, I can make sure this one finds his room." If it wasn't for the slight flush on his face, Romano could have been mistaken as being truly hostile due to the utter frigidity in his tone of voice.

For some reason neither older nation protested the offer even a token amount before Spain was sweeping France off to his room, leaving Romano to take care of Canada.

"Come with me, if you want to learn without being interrupted, my room is the furthest away from Tomato Bastard's." No, that was not coincidence.

Not seeing any reason to protest, Matthew followed Romano through Spain's house to the Italian's room. It wasn't hard to figure out when they had arrived, as the interior was noticeably different then the rest of the home. As expected, the rest was Spanish in decoration with minor touches of Italian artwork, while this room was a monument to anything and everything Italian, but Matthew noticed a distinct leaning towards renaissance styled art.

The dominant features of the spacious room though was the huge canopy bed with its linen hangings, and the balcony doors leading out onto a comfortable looking set of cushions splayed over the terrace. It was to the open doors, and the cool night air that Romano lead him, stopping for a moment to pick up something off one of the bulkier pieces of furniture in his room, a bookshelf or dresser, Matthew didn't get a close enough look before he was herded outside.

Once they were settled onto the cushions, Romano reveled the object to be a bottle of wine; previously opened but the cork had been pushed back into the bottle far enough to preserve the contents. Perched on top of the bottled had been two cups, Canada imagining Spain coming in from time to time to have a drink with Romano before they headed off to bed, it sounded like something the pair would do.

Romano started to talk as he removed the cork and poured them both a good amount of the rich red beverage, "How much do you really know about what we are?" He asked before passing Matthew one of the cups.

"We are Nations, the face and voice of the country that we represent," Canada parroted back the lesson Britain had given him not too long ago, as his was the more practical while France's had been more philosophical.

Romano could only gape at him before snorting softly and taking a sip of wine, "Okay so you don't know anything then. Tea Bastard must really be paranoid to keep you so in the dark." Luckily for Matthew's ego, his insults seemed to be centering on Britain, so far anyway. "Haven't you ever wondered where we come from? What happened to cause the land to need personifications to begin with? Oh and maybe the most important question, what makes us different from humans?"

"I have," Matthew assured, "I've asked myself that a lot of times, but figured things are as they are, you know? So I guess I have a question for you, yes I'm curious about those things, but why do we need to worry about them when we should be worrying about our people?" At Romano's suddenly piercing stare, Matthew felt himself start to duck down in shyness, but realizing he had nowhere to really hide; he held his ground and let the Italian stare.

Romano collected himself after a few moments, a smirk showing itself on his lips, "That's a surprisingly good question. A lot of us felt the same way in the beginning, the older nations, the ancients, took the attitude of 'we're here and things are going good for us so why worry about it?' my Grandpa Rome was one of them. They didn't realize that why we do what we do, is just as important as how. It didn't become apparent to them that they were missing an important piece of the puzzle until the truly old nations began to pass on. You see Grandpa Rome has admitted to my brother and I, that among the ancients it was believed an Avatar like us was truly immortal, and couldn't die no matter what. As the first ancient fell and didn't return as they always had before, the terror struck home, that we are actually something different. We are mortal, we just have life spans that tie into our population as a whole rather than an individual. It was at that point, the ancients started to care about those questions I asked you, and they managed to find the answers as new nations rose in the place of the fallen."

Romano paused there to give Matthew a chance to absorb what he had said, the younger didn't disappoint when the gravity of the situation hit him and he shuddered, "I can only imagine going from thinking you were invincible to knowing you are actually mortal and tied to the fate of your people."

"Only if your enemy has mercy and allows the people of your nation to retain their sense of allegiance to you, for them to still consider themselves as a part of your territory despite the dissolution of the nation itself, can we actually live on after the annihilation of our borders." Romano informed, it was a very rare case, but was possible. Some humans were just that stubborn to cling to their old identity in the face of something new.

"You said they found answers though? We do know what we are?" Matthew found the courage to ask following the statement.

"Yes, we know." Romano affirmed. "The exact method is impossible to know as its internal, but we know where we came from, and it answers two of the three questions."

"So where do we come from?" Canada prompted, sitting up slightly in anticipation.

"Humans." Romano answered, "We begin and end with humans. Each of us, no matter how old or how young, whether we are related to another nation or not, started out as a human. Well, okay not exactly, I should say we would have been human. We are born from human mothers, and have human fathers, but there was an intervention made that when we are born we are not human any longer. The land itself chose us. At first a country is simply land with native people, and then travelers come upsetting the original balance of the land and people, and it is these travelers that spark the need for an Avatar.

"Do you see it now? We are born from the blood of humans, and the energy of the earth itself. When I said we are meant to be the buffer between the land and the people, I was speaking literally. The changes made to us at birth were done at the will of our land, it didn't change much in the way of appearances, but it did connect us into the emotions and thoughts of our people." Romano seemed far away as he spoke, remembering the swelteringly hot Italian summer that Grandpa Rome had imparted these lessons onto his precious grandsons. One of the very few times Romano remembered ever being together with both Grandpa Rome and Feliciano at the same time.

"Wait, if we all started out as humans, or at least intended to be humans, then how come Alfred is my brother and Veneziano is yours?" Canada was enthralled by the story, but it didn't stop his confusion.

Romano smiled, an actual honest to goodness smile, "Why do you think true sibling nations are so special? We are incredibly rare because of the odds against it. For one, Feliciano and I are a different kind of sibling then you and Alfred are. Feli and I are twins, in nation terms, because we were born at the same time, and govern different parts of the same nation. We are both Italy, if one of us fell, the other would simply cover his spot. No new nation would be needed to fill the empty spot because it isn't empty. Also since the same energy that infused the Roman Empire, infuses us, that is what makes him Grandpa Rome, and us second generation Nations." Another short pause as Romano made a quick decision not to share the amount of times twin countries had existed in the past, which Matthew might never know about because one of them wasn't around any more.

"You and Alfred are actually a much rarer occurrence, because while you share a continent, you do not share a country. The conditions are a lot more complicated for siblings to form in that situation. Because of the rarity we don't really know a whole lot about how the link between you two works. We know it has something to do with your human blood, but it can't be a direct link, because there is too much time between when the first of you was born and the second. Personally I think it has to do with how our people are influenced at the time the Avatar is forming. Different influences cause a different Avatar, the same influences cause kinship ties, but I have no way of proving it." Romano theorized.

Canada listened avidly, soaking in every detail, "It makes sense!" He assured, before blushing as he realized he shouted. "Alfred and I are different now, but we were put through a lot of very similar things when we were younger, the border between him and me isn't very distinct after all, not like some of the countries with big rivers or mountains to show where they end."

"Okay, enough about that, while I know Tomato Bastard doesn't intend on sleeping tonight, I do, and we still have some things to go over if you want to learn it." Romano tried to steer the derailed conversation back on track, "I've answered two of my original questions, where do we come from, and how are we different from humans, now I just have to answer the last one, why are we needed in the first place?"

"You've already said it haven't you?" Matthew observed, "We're supposed to be watching over our people and the land, to make sure everything is okay."

Romano shook his head laughing softly, startling Matthew at seeing this side of him, loose and relaxed. "Yes, in the very basic sense that is what we do, but I already told you there is an important question even the ancients overlooked too often, why? You need to ask yourself why we are supposed to watch over an entire nation like that, answer that question, and I'll teach you how to do it properly." Romano challenged, Matthew catching onto his personality just enough to realize the playfulness in his words.

Thinking hard, Matthew didn't just jump in, he took his time to come up with his answer, before finally. "Because if the world is going to survive, then the people and the land have to coexist, and human lives are too short to appreciate the long term struggle. If we don't watch out for each other, and our land, then the world could be in for some very bad times. People are the blood and the soul of the world, but the land is its flesh and bones, we are what tie the two together."

"You passed," Romano approved, with a toast of his wine cup, Matthew raises his own to clank them together.

As they drank, the pair were smiling at each other, and neither one of them was shy about it. A breakthrough for the two introverted Nations.

XXXXX Breath of Life XXXXX

Matthew trailed off speaking, a dreamy look on his face, Alfred seeing it set down his beer bottle and slowly put his hands under the table. After a few seconds wait to make sure his brother was still off in memory land, Alfred brought his hands together as loudly as he could, stomping his feet for good measure.

With a shriek, Canada jumped at the noise, and as he landed and heard his cackling brother, launched out of his chair to tackle America. For the second time that night, the brothers ended up wrestling on the floor, but this time neither one was willing to yield.

A fist to Americas ribs took Alfred's breath away at the same time his knee dug into Canada's side, both of them rolling away gasping for air. They lay on America's kitchen floor like that a couple long moments, precious air working its way back into their systems, before picking themselves up and glaring at each other half-heartedly.

"Since when do you punch that hard?" Alfred grumbled rubbing the bruise forming on his ribs.

"Yeah well, after the incident with the baseball and a certain sensitive area, I've learned to hit harder." Matthew grinned, his own bruise hurting, but he was a bit proud of managing to surprise Alfred with a single punch. "Why did you scare me like that anyway?" He asked.

"You were looking all mushy so I thought I'd pay you back for the prank earlier." Alfred preened.

"Just for that, what if I don't finish the story?" Matthew threatened, only to have a groveling brother attached to his waist not two seconds later.

"You can't stop!" America begged, with his wide blue eyes almost tearing up, "I have to know what happens next! It's going to kill me, if you don't! Kill me! You wouldn't kill your brother would you? Not when you just told me how special we were? Please! Please! Please!"

"America!" Matthew had been calling Alfred for the last half of his speech but it wasn't until he used his brother's nation name that Alfred stopped begging to listen, "Sometimes I wonder why I put up with you, but fine I'll finish the story."

"Thanks Bro!" Alfred replied with his dopey smile, and Matthew couldn't help but smile back, despite the fact his abdomen still throbbed from their earlier tussle.

It had been a long night, and it wasn't over yet, there was a lot more to go.


End file.
